


A soft spot for the morally questionable

by confusedsatanist



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: All the villains love Peter, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Deadpool being Deadpool, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone else has powers, Found Family, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, MCU? idk her, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Without Powers, Peter Parker-centric, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Wade Wilson, Pure Peter Parker, Roommates, Scientist Peter Parker, Smart Peter Parker, So do the heroes, Spideypool - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-09-23 08:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20337445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedsatanist/pseuds/confusedsatanist
Summary: Peter Parker is normal. He's got a normal, although chaotic, job; interning for Stark Industries. He's got a boring, normal life.At least, that's the illusion he tries to maintain. But wrangling a rowdy selection of roommates, including at least one alien and several notorious criminals, isn't easy. Still, despite the fact that someone had switched the milk for sulphuric acid, again, and that there was a bullet hole in his favourite jacket, he wouldn't give it up for the world.A story about found family, and redemption. Also a story about Parker Luck not always being the worst thing in the world.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> AAA! This is going to be a big one. Hopefully there won't be too much radio silence in-between chapters. 
> 
> I also want to give a shout out to Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain, by BeanieBaby. This isn't supposed to replicate or copy that story in ANY way, but my friend pointed out that the concept is similar enough that I thought it was worth a mention. Also, it's just a great fic :) (Again, this fic is totally different, so just see it as a recommendation)
> 
> Anyway. This story is a big mash-up of elements from the MCU (ignoring anything post- Infinity war), the comic books and AU. It's purely for fun, and will be mostly fluff. I hope it's at least mildly entertaining!

Tony Stark’s personal intern kept a lot of secrets.

Secrets about classified Avengers Technology, Government activity, Tony Stark’s Burger King order, etc.

He also kept secrets _from _his boss. Peter listed a few of them in his head as he sprinted through Queens, tray of coffees in hand.

  * Peter Parker was the landlord/housekeeper/wrangler of a surprisingly large group of dangerous fugitives that had, for whatever reason, adopted him as their own. This list included several members of the Avengers’ most wanted list.
  * Peter Parker was in a years-long, committed relationship with the slightly unhinged, widely disliked, sometimes-Avenger Deadpool, aka Wade Wilson.
  * Peter Parker had completely forgotten to tell Tony Stark about his upcoming finals and was totally dead because his boss wasn’t going to be happy about him skipping _another _press conference.

Peter didn’t slow down as he rushed through the lobby of Stark Towers, pausing only to scan his pass and deliver a coffee to Felicia, perfectly put together as always. She sighed but smiled, taking a sip from a piping hot black coffee, as she watched Peter struggle to press the elevator button with his elbow, both his hands occupied.

Tony didn’t even look up as Peter entered the workshop, looking only slightly more dishevelled than usual. Peter ran a hand through his hair, desperately trying to flatten it even slightly, but it stubbornly refused to tame. He dumped his backpack on an empty stool and ignored Tony’s cocked eyebrow as he handed the billionaire his coffee. Peter began rushing around the room, a half-hearted attempt at organising the lab after what had clearly been a long night for Tony.

Finally, Peter got to the tanks. He tapped on the glass gently, watching two large tarantulas emerge from their hiding-places with a fond grin. Tony scrunched his nose.

“You are… weirdly fond of those things.” Tony looked mildly disgusted as Peter reached into the tanks and pulled out one of the Tarantulas. Peter settled the spider on his shoulder, laughing as it burrowed into the crook of his neck, and turned around.

“You know you love them.” Peter said, and Tony tried to frown, but his lips quirked, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“I don’t know why I keep you around.” He replied, tossing a file at Peter. “Here’s the information for the press conference tomorrow. If you’re there half an hour early that would be ideal, but I need you to check this over by tonight.”

“Actually, Mr. Stark, I—” Peter began haltingly, before deciding to throw caution to the wind. “I’m really really sorry, I have finals that day, and I won’t be able to make it. I can still check this over for you, I’ll get right on it!’ He moved towards a computer, but Tony caught the back of his hoodie and yanked him backwards before he could.

“Mr. Parker, are you bailing on me?” Tony asked darkly, and Peter flushed. Tony broke out into a large grin. “It’s fine, kiddo. I have a million not-quite-incompetent underlings that’ll take over for you. Just for that one event, mind you. Next time, let me know _more _ than a day in advance.”

Peter grinned in return, finally making it to his workstation and resuming his tinkering on the gauntlet in front of him. Tony had allowed Peter to mess with the Iron Man tech (under the pretence of ‘improving’ it) and Peter spent most of his time dissecting the old suits, in awe of Tony Stark’s genius. Tony had recently taken to giving Peter random disassembled components of the suit without telling him what they were, and tasking him with rebuilding it without help. Peter had only just figured out that the parts he had been given were for a gauntlet and was struggling to fix it up to prefect condition.

With a sigh, Peter gently lifted the Spider, who he’d named Gwendolyn, and deposited her on the desk next to him. She was content to watch him work, moving around every now and then, to which Peter replied with absent-minded muttering, or humming. He leaned low over his desk, miniscule screwdriver in hand, and continued to work.

Peter got so caught up in his work, that his mind began to wander. He found himself remembering the beginning of the bizarre turn his life had taken, three years prior. He realised with a grin that he didn’t regret a single bit of it.

**Wade – 3 years ago, 20XX**

Peter was never trusting Gwen again.

He knew his friend meant well; she had seen how overworked he was, with his job at the Daily Bugle, and his attempt to get a College education, as well as trying to put together an application for the Stark Industries Internship, and she’d wanted to do something nice for him. It wasn’t her fault that her ‘absolutely lovely’ roommate was far less delightful than the blonde had described. Peter hadn’t really been interested in dating – he prioritised work, and he was fine with the (very few) friends he had. Gwen hadn’t been happy with this answer and hooked him up with Betty, insisting that he relax for one night.

The night had so far been extremely unrelaxing, Peter thought miserably as he rocked uncomfortably back and forth in his chair. Betty had leant halfway across the table towards him, grinning with unnaturally white, lipstick-stained teeth. She was chattering a mile a minute about some drama that Peter really could not care less about, when their food finally arrived. He hesitated to eat, still uncomfortable with the whole situation.

The restaurant they were in was unbearably fancy. It had been Betty’s choice - Peter has wanted to grab some street food, a more casual date, but she had been insistent on the most expensive place she could find. Peter could feel his wallet hurting. The people surrounding them were dressed in suits – he could see flashy watches and cufflinks, women dressed in outfits he was sure were more expensive than his rent, and the waiters were all stuffy, with fake French accents.

Peter was dressed casually smart; black jeans, a denim jacket worn over several layers of plaid, his one pair of not-broken glasses resting on his nose. He was completely and utterly out of place. Betty had frowned at him when she had seen what he was wearing, but Peter couldn’t really find it in him to care. He was going to eat his stupid overpriced spaghetti, go home and work on his stupid AI, and forget about this whole stupid ordeal.

Betty was glaring at her plate of salad. Peter fought with all his might to keep his face civil when she looked up at him, lip curling. “I didn’t ask for salad dressing.” She hissed, pushing her plate away. Peter glanced at his own untouched pasta and made an effort to smile sympathetically.

“We can swap? I haven’t eaten any of this yet, and it looks really good.” He offered. Her face didn’t change, and she was beginning to look more like a spoilt child than an adult woman.

“Do you _know _how many carbs are in pasta?” Betty said in a shrill voice that made people turn their heads. “I didn’t ask for salad dressing!” Peter ducked his head, flushing further when Betty began to click her fingers loudly, arm outstretched, scanning the restaurant for a waiter.

He decided suddenly that he had far better places to be. Pulling out a handful of twenties from his wallet - the only spare cash he’d had in months, wasted on a terrible date - he moved to get up. Peter placed the bills on the table, opened his mouth to make an excuse—

-And was thrown backwards in a shower of shattered glass and splintered wood as an explosion rattled the building. Through the haze of smoke, and the sounds of screams, Peter absently watched as several of the suited men had abandoned their food, pulled out weapons and begun firing, seemingly into thin air.

No way. No fucking way was _this _ridiculously expensive restaurant a front for the mob. This was—this was Parker luck taken to the extreme, Peter thought, his stomach sinking like a stone. He was going to die here, in the first year of his masters, single, skinny, without a single significant achievement.

Peter crawled on his hands and knees through the chaos of the restaurant. Lifting his head up for a moment, he saw Betty and several other women escaping through the double doors, before a heavy-set man, with what Peter thought might have been a bazooka, blocked the exit.

Peter crawled behind a sideways table, flopping onto his back and letting out a long sigh of relief. He sat up slowly, careful not to expose his head to the gunfire – he was going to be practically deaf after this, he thought with a frown – and rested his back against the table, trying and failing to think of a way out of the situation.

Suddenly, there was a man sat next to him. The man had announced his presence with a loud yell, vaulting the table and ducking down next to Peter. Peter was trying to ignore the man, on account of the totally-not-terrifying red and black mask he was wearing, and the smirk that Peter could somehow _tell _was on the man’s face, despite the mask. Also, he was holding a bloody katana in one hand and a shotgun in the other. He didn’t seem exactly friendly.

Peter had basically accepted this was how he died. He was in the process of figuring out which God he should be praying to when the masked man leant towards him and spoke. “Y’know, this is really not going to plan.”

Peter was tired. He was broke, he was hungry, and he’d just had the worst date of his life. He looked the man dead in the eyes. “I hate fancy restaurants.” He said miserably, and promptly passed out.

When Peter came to, he opened his eyes to see the red mask, barely an inch away from his face. Peter let out a manly, high-pitched yelp, and scrambled backwards, hitting his head on the table with a resounding thud. The masked man winced.

“You were already concussed, baby boy. Going for permanent brain damage there? I can assist!” He said cheerfully, raising the splintered chair leg he was holding. That was new. Peter stopped rubbing his head to give the man a baffled look. In the moment of silence between them, Peter also noticed the absence of gunshots, and the nearby wailing of sirens. He tried to sit up and groaned. His head span dangerously. The masked man grabbed Peter’s forearms, steadying him.

“I… I need to get…” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying to piece together a sentence. He began struggling to his feet. “Home. I need to get out of here.”

The masked man cocked his head. “I don’t ever do this.” He said. “But I’m a sucker for a man in glasses.” He scooped Peter into a bridal carry, and promptly legged it out of the restaurant, heading up the fire escape to the roof. Peter opened his mouth to scream but paused and closed it when he saw the very armed policemen spilling into the door they had just left through. The noise of gunshots began anew. Peter had only just escaped being riddled with bullet holes, he was content to just be carried away from a crime scene by a murderer in a mask.

Wait, what?

“Wait, _what_!” Peter yelled suddenly, throwing up his arms. His hand connected with the man’s jaw with a painful _crunch. _Peter swore loudly and colourfully, clutching his pained hand to his chest, and the man laughed gleefully.

“Damn, you’re stronger than you look, baby boy!” Red-mask exclaimed.

“You sound far too happy about this.” Peter deadpanned. The man shrugged, jostling Peter, who scowled.

“I’m having fun?” The man said.

“Who _are_you?” Peter asked, adjusting himself so he could see the oddly expressive mask.

“I’m Wade.” The man said. “My friends call me Deadpool. And my enemies. Actually, everyone calls me Deadpool. But you can call me Wade. Or… Deadpool, I guess.”

“Okay, that was a lot to unpack.” Peter began hesitantly. “Where are we going?”

“Uh… I’m taking you home?”

“You don’t know where I live.”

“I knew I forgot something! Where do you live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“That defeats the purpose of me taking you home, then.”

Peter sighed, exasperated. “I live just off Queens Boulevard- Forest Hills? I can walk, you know.”

The man beamed, paused for a moment, did a complete 180 and began walking in the opposite direction of where they had been walking before. “You’re concussed, and I think you just broke your fingers. What sort of gentleman would I be if I let you make your own way home?”

“A _normal _one.” Peter sighed. He did lift his hand up to examine his fingers at the man’s mention. They were purple and swollen – broken for sure. Peter let his hand drop down onto his chest dejectedly. The man’s jaw was totally unscathed. Stupid superheroes. Or villains?

“Uh… What were you doing at the restaurant?” Peter asked, almost scared of the answer. The man, no- _Wade, _was silent for a moment as well, seemingly trying to figure out the best way of answering the question.

“My job.” He said. They turned and began walking down a series of back alleys that Peter could not be bothered to keep track of. “_You _don’t work for Kingpin, do you?”

“Who’s Kingpin?” Peter said uneasily. Wade laughed.

“Glad I don’t have to put a bullet through your adorable brain.” He said. “You’re like…the Bea Arthur of cute hipster twinks. Hey, you want a taco?”

Peter was caught off guard by the question, but Wade didn’t wait for an answer. He deposited Peter on a bench, patting him gently on the head, and vanished for a minute. Even trying to think hurt, and moving seemed an almost impossible task, so Peter was content to stay where he was, accepting his fate.

Wade returned with two tacos, and handed one to Peter, who looked down at it in shock. “I don’t have any money.” He said quietly. Wade shrugged.

‘There are always other ways you could pay me.” He said, waggling his eyebrows under the mask. He seemed satisfied when Peter flushed scarlet. “I’m kidding. Consider it a ‘sorry for ruining your meal.’”

Peter watched as Wade slowly rolled up his mask, to just below his nose. Peter vaguely took note of the thick scar tissue that covered every inch of the man’s face but was mostly watching in equal parts revulsion and fascination as Wade attempted to cram the entire taco into his mouth at once.

Wade noticed Peter’s eyes on him and swallowed his mouthful, suddenly seeming self-conscious. His smile dropped, and his hand twitched upwards, in an aborted attempt to lower his mask. Peter didn’t think before he opened his mouth. “You eat like an animal.” He said, nose wrinkling, before taking a bite of his own taco. Wade grinned again, finishing off his taco with a new-found vigour.

They walked all the way up to Peter’s apartment door together. Peter had straight-up refused to be carried again, but was unable to walk, so they’d compromised, and Peter’s arm was slung over Wade’s shoulders, Wade supporting his full weight.

Somewhere along the way, they’d reached a tentative truce, settling into friendly conversation. Wade was odd, all over the place and a bit insane, but Peter didn’t dislike the guy. If they’d met in a different situation, Peter though vaguely, they would’ve made amazing friends.

That evening, in between working on his internship application and staring absently out the window, Peter let his curiosity get the better of him, and googled the name ‘Deadpool’. After scrolling through a few webpages, Peter shut his computer with a pained sigh. Definitely not a good guy, then.

** 3 weeks later **

One click. The email was sent, there was nothing more he could do. Peter leant back in his chair, the tiredness from weeks of work suddenly hitting him full-force. If he didn’t get this internship, he was going to take a swan-dive off the fire escape.

Peter pulled himself upright, wandering over to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, when there as a thunderous crash from outside his window. He would probably have ignored it if not for the very human groan that followed. Peter ran to the window, leaning almost his entire body out of it, to see an uncomfortably familiar red suit.

“Wade?” He said. Deadpool, who was sat on the fire escape, turned to face him and raised his arm in greeting. Peter noticed with horror that there was no hand attached to the arm. Wade also noticed, hiding the arm behind his back sheepishly.

“Baby boy! I did remember the right apartment! Cos’ Yellow told me this wasn’t the right place, and White told me that even if it is the right place I shouldn’t disturb you and- oh!” Wade looked down and doubled over suddenly, letting out a pained groan. “I think I’m about to die. It’s cool, I’ll wake up in a minute. No doctors!” He said. Before Peter could even open his mouth to say anything else, Wade slumped over.

After a worryingly long struggle- Peter really needed to get in shape- Wade was deposited on the couch, and Peter had tentatively begun to examine the man’s injuries. As he took in the missing hand, the shattered knees and caved-in ribs, the worrying dip in Wade’s skull, visible even through the mask, as well as the blood pouring sluggishly from a slash through the abdomen, Peter marvelled at how Wade even managed to get himself onto the fire escape. He also began to realise that Wade wasn’t going to wake up.

Well, shit. Peter sat back on his heels, clutching Deadpool’s remaining hand in his own. He assessed the situation as best he could through a veil of blind panic. There was a dead man on his couch. He didn’t know CPR aside from what he remembered from that one episode of The Office. He sensed it was probably a bit late for CPR anyway. There was a dead man on his couch. Who had even managed to injure him this badly? There was a _dead man _on boring, normal Peter Parker’s couch.

Peter suddenly began to feel nauseous. He wasn’t at all prepared for this. His hand hovered over Wade’s neck, torn between trying to search for a pulse or tearing off the mask. In the end, Peter withdrew his hand, and decided he needed a drink.

His hands were shaking violently, and Peter struggled to even open a beer can. In the end, he gave up and settled for a glass of water. Probably best he wasn’t off his face when he eventually had to figure out what to do with the corpse on his couch.

There was a corpse on his couch. Peter took Wade’s hand in his own again, and for the first time began to feel sad. Wade had bought him tacos, and made sure he’d got home safely, and had seemed like a genuinely well-meaning man, although the message was misconstrued through a layer of insanity. Whatever Wade did as a job, he definitely didn’t deserve to die.

When Wade suddenly and violently woke up, Peter later would pretend he didn’t scream and throw himself to the other side of the room, but at the time it was probably the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced. What, a second ago, had been a corpse with a caved-in head, was now sat upright, gasping painful-sounding breaths, and looking at Peter intensely, as though _Peter _had been the one to come back from the dead.

“That- hurt like- a- bitch!” Wade wheezed and coughed wetly. Peter frowned.

“If you’re about to throw up, I can get you a bucket?” He said, sounding faint. Wade laughed weakly.

“That- would be wonderful.” He said and began coughing again.

A half-hour of painful retching later, puking up mostly blood, Wade began to regain his strength. Peter cautiously examined where previously Wade had been fatally injured, to find nothing but mostly-healed surface wounds. His skull was completely intact, and his hand was mostly regrown. Wade had rolled his mask up, and there was a dribble of blood smeared on his chin.

“I thought…” Peter began, sat at one end of the couch. Wade looked up from the bucket he had been staring in to, and gave Peter an unreadable look, lips pinched together. As soon as it was there, it was gone, replaced with a grin.

“Betcha thought I was a goner, huh.” Wade said brightly. “Takes a lot more than that to keep me down. Scratch that, literally nothing can keep me down. It’s a goddamn pain in the ass.” Wade paused again. “You really didn’t know I’d wake up?”

“I was trying to figure out what the hell to do with a corpse.” Peter said honestly, shrugging. Wade laughed warmly.

“Coulda left me on the fire escape.” He said.

“Seems a bit cold, even for a stranger.” Peter stood up, heading to the kitchen. “Want a drink? Something to eat?”

“Sure, Petey.” Wade said, leaning over the couch to watch Peter walk away. He wolf-whistled slyly. “Damn, that _ass.” _

Peter laughed. “I feel objectified.” He said, tossing Wade a beer. The merc caught it with ease. “I do have a question though.”

“Shoot!”

“Why did you come here? I mean, we’ve only met once.” Peter asked.

“Mercenary work doesn’t make you a lot of friends, baby boy.” Wade said. “I needed some place to hide until I can move around enough to swing my katanas again. Somewhere no one else knows about. You were what came to mind, for… whatever-fuckin’-reason.”

Peter nodded. Before he could say anything else, Wade chugged his beer and stood up, with a faint groan. “On that note, I gotta go finish the job.” He said darkly.

Peter spoke before he really knew what he was doing. “Wait!” He said. Wade stopped, midway out the window. Peter made the single most pivotal decision of his life. “Stay for a while, you don’t look completely better yet. We could order a pizza, watch a movie?”

If there’s one thing you should know about Peter Parker, it’s that he’s lonely. With Harry studying abroad and Gwen always busy with her work and other friends, he didn’t really have anyone else, aside from acquaintances at work. He thought, as most lonely people do, that he was fine with that. As most lonely people are, he was wrong about that.

Most lonely people probably wouldn’t look for friendship in an insane mercenary, though, but Peter’s never exactly fit the mould of ‘normal’. His co-worker once joked that Peter was the most likely person to accidentally acquire superpowers on account of his being an oblivious idiot. Peter thought that was pretty accurate. He was definitely an oblivious idiot.

It didn’t take much prompting to convince Wade, surprisingly. The mercenary climbed back in through the window and sat back down on the couch. He stared intensely at Peter for a while, and Peter began to fidget.

“If this is going to work, I need to know one thing.” Wade said, pulling out a flip-phone. “Pineapple on pizza- yay or nay?”

Maybe this wasn’t the worst decision Peter Parker had ever made.

\--

Wade’s visits became a regular occurrence after that. They weren’t frequent, by any means- he could vanish off the face of the earth for weeks at a time, but he always came back. He also had a nasty habit of dragging himself through the window in whatever injured state he happened to be in, eventually leading Peter to buy an extensive first-aid kit that he kept in the kitchen at all times. Peter also kept industrial-level stain remover under the sink in case of Wade bleeding out on the carpet (something that had happened more than once) and began to worry that the landlady might think he was in the Mob, or something.

Despite this, Peter and Wade had developed a firm friendship. After a few occasions of Wade catching Peter on his days off in sweatpants and playing Overwatch, and deciding to join in, they had grown quite comfortable around each other.

Eventually, Peter had enough of Wade knocking on the window in the early hours of the morning.

“Here.” He said, midway through a marathon of Lord of The Rings (they had to stop, to top up on popcorn and order another round of pizza). He pressed the small object into Wade’s gloved palm. “A house key. You can come in whenever and help yourself to anything. Even if I’m not here. Just, for the love of god, use the front door! And don’t alert the neighbours.”

Wade didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening, and if they ended up falling asleep in each others’ arms halfway through Return of the King, that was no one’s business but their own.

\--

Wade was there, having crashed on the couch the previous night, when Peter got the long-awaited letter from Stark Industries. Peter screeched, sliding it to the other side of the table, where Wade picked it up.

“I can’t do it.” Peter said, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t open the letter. What if I didn’t get in? What if I _did _get in? What do I do?”

Wade laughed. “You’re way too good for that dork anyway. If you don’t get in, I’ll go in there and convince him.” He said, fists up, mimicking a fighting stance. Peter choked, and shoved Wade, who theatrically stumbled before collapsing in a heap on the couch, letter abandoned on the coffee table.

“You are not fighting Iron Man, Wade.” Peter said with a sigh. “Either you’ll get arrested because, you know, _bad guy, _or I’ll just end up having to stitch you up _again.”_

Wade groaned into the sofa. “I just want to touch his perfect facial hair.” He said dejectedly, voice muffled. Peter patted the top of Wade’s head sympathetically.

“One day, buddy. One day.” He said. Wade lifted his head.

“Open the goddamn letter, Parker.” He said sternly.

“_Open the goddamn letter, Parker.” _Peter mocked, as he tore open the letter. Before he opened it, he paused, looking at Wade with a critical eye. Wade glared back. Or at least, Peter assumed he was glaring, under the mask. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Wade sat up, cocking his head. “What kind of deal. Does it involve sex? All the best deals do.”

“Woah.” Peter said with a surprised laugh. “No sex. But how about this. If I get this internship – which pays _really _well, by the way – I’ll be able to get a bigger place in a few months. If you move in with me, you won’t have to do any more mercenary work!”

Wade was silent for a moment. Peter began to worry – asking Wade to quit his mercenary work may’ve been a step too far, he thought fretfully.

“You’d really want me to move in with you?” Wade asked, his voice surprisingly small. Peter grinned, relaxing.

“Of course, dummy, you’re my best friend.” He said. Wade jumped up from the couch.

“I’ll help you pay for the place.” He said. “I’ve got those dolla dolla bills! Mercenary work pays well, even if I’m apparently not doing that anymore. Hey, ex-merc sounds pretty badass, huh!”

Peter grinned at Wade, took in a deep breath, and unfolded the letter. He read it through a couple of times, before shoving it into Wade’s chest.

“Make sure I’m not dreaming?” Peter asked in a small voice. Wade chuckled and read it through, his smile widening. He flung the letter aside and lifted Peter up by the waist, spinning him around the room.

“You did it, baby boy!”

\--

Peter couldn’t stop laughing. Wade was sat back on the couch, arms folded, WII remote abandoned on his lap, pouting. Peter gave him a good-natured shoulder shove.

“Come on, man, you didn’t loose _every _round.” He said. Wade grunted. “It’s not your fault you didn’t believe me when I told you I have like… a sixth sense when I’m playing Mario Kart. No one’s ever beaten me.”

Wade grunted again. His mask was rolled up, though, so Peter could see the reluctant smile pleasantly twisting his features.

“You keep brooding. I’m going to get myself a drink.” Peter said, leaving the room to grab a can of coke.

When he returned, he froze in the doorway, at the sight of the back of a bald head. Wade must’ve taken his mask off. Uncertain how to approach- he didn’t know whether Wade intended for him to see- Peter cleared his throat.

Wade twisted on the couch, and for the first time Peter saw his whole, totally uncovered, face. He had high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes that immediately locked onto Peter’s. Wade smiled, but it seemed forced. Peter tried to keep his face even, not show the sympathy he was feeling for the layers of painful-looking scar tissue that covered Wade’s entire head- Wade hated pity. Instead, he sat down casually, chucking the second can of coke he had grabbed at Wade, who caught it instinctively.

“Got you one too. Are we gonna play again or are you gonna keep on being a sore loser.” Peter studied Wade’s face briefly, trying to pinpoint who he reminded him of. He clicked his fingers. “Hey, you kinda look like Ryan Reynolds.”

Wade beamed. He released his white-knuckled grip on his mask, and threw his WII remote into the air, catching it smoothly. “You’re on, Andrew Garfield.”

Peter laughed, feeling lighter than air.

\--

“Seven bedrooms.”

“Why the hell would we ever need seven bedrooms, Wade?”

“Fine, six. And more than one bathroom.”

“Again, there’s only two of us.”

“Don’t forget our future kids.”

“Our future- okay, take five. How would we ever afford a seven-bedroom apartment in the middle of New York anyway? _Are there _any apartments with that many bedrooms in this city?”

“Sure there are, and I told you, I’m loaded.”

“Compromise. You find an apartment that meets all my requirements, and it can have as many bedrooms as you want _but _none of your weirdass friends are staying over unless they’re my weirdass friends as well, got it?”

“Absolutely. Let’s go.”

\--

“So.” Wade started, elbow-deep in a cardboard box labelled ‘kitchen stuff’. “I’ve been thinking.” Peter whirled around to stare at him, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s never a good way to start a conversation.” He said, sounding suspicious. “But I’m terrible with suspense, so carry on.”

“You know how I helped the Avengers fight off the doom-bots in Manhattan last week?”

“Yeah, you said it was the single best moment of your life so far. We had tapas in that place a couple blocks down from the Avengers’ Tower afterwards.” Peter replied, balancing a precarious tower of boxes in his hands, before dumping them on the floor with a grunt.

“Unreal. Anyway, some stuffy suit from SHIELD cornered me after and offered me a job. He gave me some piece of paper…” Wade abandoned his pots and pans, rifled through the papers littered across Peter’s desk before finding what he was looking for and waving an official-looking document in the air. “Check this out.”

Peter snatched it from the air and scanned over the document. He lowered it slowly and met Wade’s eyes. “It’s a recruitment form.” He said quietly. Then, louder, “Oh my god, it’s a recruitment form! They want you to be an Avenger!” He paused for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me about this straight away?”

Wade’s face didn’t drop. “I wasn’t gonna accept, because I thought I wouldn’t be allowed to live with you anymore, and we’re so busy with the move that I sort of forgot. But turns out I _can _live with you, it pays, and… baby boy, it’s the _Avengers!” _

Peter laughed, touched by the thought of Wade prioritising their home together over his dream of being in a team with his heroes. To celebrate, the two decided to abandon the rest of their unpacking until tomorrow, and spend the evening playing video games with takeout and booze. It really felt like home.

\--

Peter and Wade’s new apartment wasn’t that far from Stark Tower. They had made sure it was within walking distance, per Peter’s request, but it was still a fair distance to walk at 7am every day. Peter walked with his head down, trying not to draw attention to himself, as was his habit.

To say he was terrified for his new job would be an understatement. He still wasn’t entirely sure what the position would entail, having mentally prepared himself to be little more than a coffee-fetcher for the scientists working under Stark, but just the concept of being in the building was exciting.

Peter was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t notice the other man until they collided, hot coffee spilling all over both of them. Peter gasped sharply, in pain. The other man swore, quickly pulling off a soaked grey hoodie. Peter absently took note of the man’s toned physique, and his… dishevelled appearance.

“Shit, man, are you okay?” The man was saying. Still surprised, Peter nodded slightly. He stuck out his hand, before withdrawing it awkwardly, fumbling in place. 

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Peter said. The other man seemed friendly, and sympathetic.

“Hey, no sweat. Sorry about pouring scolding coffee on you. Where’re ya headed? Hopefully nowhere important.” The man said. Peter winced.

“Yeah, uh, my first day as an intern, actually.” He said. The man’s expression morphed into one of guilt.

“Oh, and I ruined your outfit, I’m so sorry, man. I hope it goes well.” He replied. He frowned for a second. “The name’s Eddie. Feel like I owe you that much.” He held out his hand, and Peter shook it.

“Peter. I gotta run, sorry again about spilling your drink!” He said, suddenly realising the time and legging it towards the tower. As Peter rounded the corner, he looked back for a moment. Odd, he could’ve sworn Eddie didn’t have a black sweatshirt on. Shaking it off, he made it to the tower just in time.

\--

“Hi, I’m Peter, I’m here for the internship?” Peter asked, standing awkwardly at the front desk. He was forcing himself to keep his eyes on the receptionist, not letting his eyes wonder around the massive, awe-inspiring lobby. He was pretty sure there were perpetually important-looking people walking around, and it was very distracting to the science nerd in him. The receptionist, a beautiful woman with a cloud of white hair whose nametag read ‘Felicia’, pressed her lips together in a frown.

“Parker, right?” She asked. Peter nodded, and she fumbled around in her desk for a moment. Pulling out a key-card and holding it next to Peter’s head, she nodded, lips twisting into a warmer smile. “Here ya go. That’ll get you onto the elevator. It’ll take you where you’re supposed to be.”

Peter took the ID card, trying not to cringe too much at the picture of himself, and headed towards the elevators. He stepped on the elevator, but just as the doors started to close, another man stepped in. He wore oversized sweater and sweatpants and held a large mug that said, ‘science bro #1’. It took Peter a second to recognise the man, but when he did he physically reeled back, trying to keep his inner fanboy supressed. Dr. Banner glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” Banner said, holding out his free hand. “I’m Bruce. Where are you headed?”

Peter shook Bruce’s hand tentatively, still a little in awe. He blushed when he realised he was staring. “I’m not sure… It’s my first day?” He said in a small voice.

“Oh! You must be Peter! Tony told me you were arriving today. You’re headed to R&D with me.” Bruce said, waving his free hand in the air eagerly. Peter nodded, feeling a little star-struck, and uncertainly followed him out of the elevator.

The labs were bustling, a raucous of chatter and machinery noises everywhere, and men and women in white lab coats moved purposefully, vaguely reminding Peter of a hive of worker bees. He kept close to Banner, noting how people parted wordlessly to make way for him. Bruce glanced behind him to check that Peter was still following him and beckoned him closer when he saw that Peter was still there. He was stood next to a tall woman, sharply dressed in a spotless lab coat.

“I’m heading up to the higher floors now,” Bruce said to Peter. “This is Aneesa. She’s the intern-wrangler, to grossly simplify her job. She’ll tell you where you need to be. Tony’ll be down later to introduce himself. So, uh, good luck, Peter.”

And just like that, he was gone, and Peter was alone. Aneesa smiled at him, checking through something on her tablet.

“Peter Parker. You’ve got quite the rep, I’ll give you that.” She said in a disconcertingly stern voice. “Boy genius, graduated high school two years early, applied with an AI you coded from scratch that Mr. Stark described as ‘FRIDAY, but ten years younger’.”

“Really?”

“You… don’t know what you applied with?”

“No, I mean, uh, did Mr. Stark really actually say that about Karen?”

“Karen?”

“My AI. I, um, I named her after the character from SpongeBob?”

That made Aneesa genuinely smile. She gave the tablet one final glance over, switched it off, and placed it on the desk behind her, her demeanour suddenly much warmer.

“So, as you’re so new, you’ll be doing a little bit of everything before you get settled in one department or another. Expect a pretty boring few weeks of coffee runs and paper work, but if you’re determined enough, one of the supervisors will pick you up in no time.” Aneesa explained. “Your key card’ll get you onto the computers and into the elevators, but some of the labs and all of the top floors are permission-only access. Capiche?”

Peter tugged at the hem of his jacket nervously but nodded and smiled anyway. Aneesa beckoned Peter to follow her over to a desk.

“Let’s get you stated.”

Two hours later, Peter was sat in the corner of a large lab, typing up some notes scribbled in near-illegible handwriting. He’d noticed a few mistakes and hoped the scientist that had written them didn’t mind his subtle corrections. Peter was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice someone leaning over his shoulder.

“You’re pretty bright, kiddo.”

Peter yelped, and Tony Stark laughed. “Sorry to take you by surprise. I watched you correct those equations – you saved months of adjustments later down the line.”

“Thank you, Dr Stark, sir.” Peter said, a little overwhelmed.

“Dr, huh. Everyone always forgets about the doctorates. I like you. You’re the kid that applied with Karen, correct?” Tony asked, smiling warmly. Peter nodded. “Follow me, I want to show you something.”

Peter followed Tony onto the elevator and watched with wide eyes as the doors opened into an empty – but chaotically messy – lab. Scratch that, it was more a workshop than a lab, with bits of tech scattered everywhere and tools discarded everywhere. To Peter’s eternal mortification, the first words out of his mouth were; “This place needs a spring clean.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, probably. The issue is that I never really let anyone else in here. Hey, Brucie!”

Bruce poked his head around a corner. “Everything alright, Tony?” He said, looking harried. Tony beckoned Bruce over, and the man brightened when he recognised Peter. “Hey, did you tell him yet?”

Tony shook his head. He paused, and turned to face Peter. “So, as you so keenly noticed when you walked in, this lab is a little… neglected. Brucie and I tend to be a little careless or too busy to clean up. We talked a while ago and decided we should take on a more specific intern. Someone still in education, so we can train them up ourselves, but someone with potential and the right attitude. Brucie and I were blown away by your application, Mr. Parker, and we were wondering whether you’d be prepared to take on that role. It’s a better paid position than we initially said, and you would be almost exclusively working up here with us. If you refuse, you have a secure future with Stark Industries, so don’t worry about—”

Tony was cut off by a loud yell and a crash. Peter turned with a start towards the window, where the noise had come from. When he saw the familiar red suit, he buried his face in his hands, embarrassed. He looked up, though, when he heard the whirring of Iron Man’s repulsors. He watched with vague amusement as Tony, Iron Man gauntlets on, hauled Wade through one of the large windows and tossed him to the floor. One repulsors fixed on Wade, Tony opened his faceplate.

“Deadpool, what the hell are you doing here?” He said, sounding mildly exasperated. Wade fixed his gaze on Peter, standing beside a slightly green-tinged Bruce, slightly behind Tony. Tony unsubtly moved in front of Peter. “I asked you a question, Pool.”

“Funny story. The coffee maker in my apartment was broken in an unfortunate accident that was _not my fault,” _Wade said, clearly noticing the annoyed and unimpressed look Peter was giving him, “and everyone knows the only place to get good coffee is Stark Tower.”

“I, uh, don’t think that’s something that _anyone _says.” Peter interjected, and Wade shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Oh, Mr. Super-Genius-Scientist-Man who I have definitely never met before, you have clearly never tried a mug of Stark-approved coffee.” Wade replied. His tone was light, but he was staring intensely at Peter. Tony looked thoroughly unamused.

“Stop harassing my intern and I’ll give you all the coffee you want, Deadpool.” He said. Wade threw his arms in the air.

“You’re the best, tin can! I was just going to steal a coffee machine, though. My roommate will be angry if he knows I broke ours. Just between you and me, he’s terrifying when he’s angry. You should have seen him when he thought Brooklyn Nine-Nine had been cancelled, let me tell you, couldn’t feel my balls for days—”

“Okay, Deadpool, that’s enough. I would be concerned for the poor bastard that has to live with you, but it seems as if he’s got you under control. You’re still not just taking my coffee maker, but you _did _save my ass on the Alaska mission the other day, so I can get one delivered to your apartment, if you give me your address.”

Wade tensed. “Y’know what, I’m just gonna take yours and run before my roomie gets home. Love ya!” He suddenly sprinted, disappearing around a corner. The iron man suit retreated, and Tony sighed.

“I’m just going to let him have it. It’s easier to order another one and avoid the migraine this would cause.” He said, moving on and focusing again on the screens in front of him. “So, about that job?”

Peter was having a moment. Wade hadn’t just visited the tower to pick up a coffee maker (although if he really had broken it, Peter _was _going to throw the idiot out of a window) he’d come to see Peter. To make sure Peter was okay, that he was safe. It was just… no one had done that for him before.

It hit him at an alarming velocity. He was falling for Wade Wilson.

In hindsight, maybe it should’ve been obvious. He’d spent a little too long daydreaming about Wade’s arms for it to be strictly platonic, not to mention the several occasions on which he’d fallen asleep with his head in Wade’s lap, or when—

Okay, he was getting a little side-tracked. Still, this was something to freak out about, right? It was _Wade, _the chaotic anti-hero (emphasis on the ‘anti’) who killed people for money! He had enough red on his ledger to rival the Widow! He also made consistently perfect pancakes, and had a perfect body, and put Peter above everything else. It was funny. The more Peter thought about it, he realised that falling in love with Wade wasn’t some shocking revelation, but the most natural thing in the world.

He shook his head, deciding to deal with that turn of events when he got home, and looked Tony in the eye. “I accept.”

Tony clapped his hands together, and Bruce beamed. “Perfect. Let’s get started!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki.  
This is mostly domestic fluff ngl. I'm weak.

Peter, as it turns out, wasn’t very good at handling feelings. Wade was amazing, as always, but Peter was… not functioning.

It had started small, instead of leaning into Wade’s casual touches he would freeze up, having to make a conscious effort to relax. He avoided long conversations, paranoid about slipping up and scaring Wade away. He knew he was being irrational and that eventually feelings would get hurt. It was just, well… scary. Peter wanted to protect Wade, in some backwards but well-intentioned way – from commitment, maybe? From having to turn Peter down? From the inevitable embarrassment of it all? Or maybe he was protecting himself. Still, he knew it wasn’t sustainable, and it was already beginning to take its toll on him.

Things started to reach a tipping point when the seasons began to turn, and when Peter’s life got more complicated again.

He first met Loki at the end of November, the temperature dropping at the onset of winter, about a month and a half after moving in with Wade. It was only about 9 in the evening, on a Saturday, but the sky was dark, and the air was cool. The lights of the surrounding buildings and the street lights cast a glow onto the damp pavement, and it was lightly raining.

Peter had left the new apartment for a while, too exhausted by everything, and gone for a walk to try and clear his head. Wade was at Sister Margaret’s, probably starting trouble again. Peter trusted Weasel to keep him somewhat sensible, but he could never fully rely on it – Weasel was… inconsistent at best and downright baffling at worst. Still, Wade was away and probably relaxed for the first time in a while. Wade had an uncanny ability for picking up on Peter’s moods and his recent odd behavior meant the atmosphere in the apartment was tense. He had tried to wheedle it out of Peter several times, but to no avail.

Peter ran his hands through his slightly rain-damp hair.

He loved New York in the nighttime, it brought out a whole different side to the city. The very atmosphere felt different. It was liberating, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulder, letting the city guide him. He was walking down a mostly unfamiliar alley when he heard a faint noise, a pained moan, from a nearby dumpster.

Ignoring his instincts to stay back and call for help, Peter rushed over to see who was hurt, not really caring if it was the sensible thing to do. He was never really one for the sensible.

What he found was a pale, dark-haired man, dressed in black skinny jeans and a green jacket, sprawled over several foul-smelling trash bags.

The man regarded Peter with a lazy glare. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

Peter helped the man haul himself out of the dumpster, catching him grumble something that sounded like ‘damn you, Strange.’ but choosing to ignore it- he was probably concussed, and not making much sense. The man dusted himself off, but Peter didn’t miss the violent wince that accompanied the action.

“Is your arm injured?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll walk it off.” The man tried to say, but Peter could see the blood soaking through the man’s jacket sleeve. Glancing at the man’s face, he could see he was clearly in pain. Peter made a spilt-second decision.

“I have a huge first aid kit in my apartment, if you wanted any help? I’m guessing you don’t want to go to the ER.” Peter suggested. The man studied him for a moment and nodded curtly.

“I would appreciate the help.” He said softly. Peter beckoned for the man to follow him home. He should’ve been a nurse, he thought, with his talent for stitching up random wounds that _weren’t his._

Thankfully, Wade still hadn’t made it home yet, because when Peter unlocked the door, the apartment was empty. He sat the man down on the old leather couch, peeled off the bloody jacket and began cleaning the rather brutal wound in silence.

“Uh... what were you doing in a dumpster in the middle of Queens anyway, Mr...?” Peter began.

“Odinson. Loki Odinson.”

Well shit. Talk about unexpected. For some reason, though, Peter didn’t doubt that this was _the _Loki. Something about his slightly unnatural-looking pupils and irises, and the odd, marble-like texture of his skin – which was icy cold, by the way – down to the fact that Peter had found him bleeding out in a dumpster.

“Wait, you’re actually Asgardian? Thor’s brother? Do you actually have all those badass illusion powers?” Peter began eagerly. Time spent around Wade and his unhinged friends at Sister Margaret’s had worryingly desensitized Peter to the concept of ‘dangerous’. Luckily, Loki only smiled softly.

“I prefer to call it magic, young man. And I wouldn’t call myself Asgardian, as such.” Loki replied smoothly. He winced as Peter cleaned the wound on his arm but maintained his aloof air.

“I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. My name, I mean. Okay, I’m going to stop talking now.” Peter said. Then, after a couple seconds, “Could you show me some magic? Is it impolite to ask?”

Loki considered it. He held out his hand, and summoned a shimmering illusion of a snake, which curled around the room before dissolving into a shower of green sparks. Peter watched in awe.

“That might be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” He hissed. Loki smoothed his hand through his hair, looking pleased with himself.

“It’s not often I meet Midgardians that aren’t afraid of my magic.” He confessed. “And it’s even rarer that I meet someone willing to go out of their way to help a stranger in need. Especially someone with a reputation like mine.”

Peter paused, thinking. Wade’s face flashed through his mind. “You know, I’ve always believed that everyone deserves a second chance. And, uh, if you ever feel like taking over the planet again, feel free to turn up here. I reckon I can change your mind.”

Loki laughed, but his cheeks were tinged red. “That’s a bold claim, young man. I must follow it up with an equally bold request. I need a place to stay tonight, and you have been accommodating thus far. It would be one night, and I would repay you finely.”

Peter considered it. He had just changed the sheets on his bed, and he could sleep in Wade’s room for the one night…

“Of course. You’re pretty badly hurt as well, you could use the rest. Follow me.”

\--

Peter woke up slowly, snuggling further into the warm arms around him. Just as he felt himself drifting off again, he jolted upright forcefully enough to send himself and his companion sprawling onto the floor.

“Phew, what a wake-up call!” The other man said. Peter relaxed.

“Morning, Wade.” He said with a smile.

“Morning, Petey. Not that I don’t love waking up to uh… this, I am wondering why I came home to find you in my bed. Miss me that much, honeybuns?” Wade said, rolling over to lie flat on his back, one arm over his eyes.

“Okay so I maybe made a really bad decision last night, and there’s someone in my bed.” Peter confessed, gauging Wade’s reaction.

“Like… A bad hookup?” Wade said slowly. For some reason Peter couldn’t fathom, he looked betrayed. Peter shook his head, vigorously.

“God, no. More like, uh, an injured friend needed a place to crash, only he’s actually a complete stranger and he also once tried to kill my boss. And New York. I think he might have been aiming for world domination, actually.” Peter said, looking thoughtful. Wade smacked him on the arm and rolled over, so they were lying practically nose-to-nose.

“You invited a supervillain to stay the night. In your bed.” Wade reiterated, sounding amused. Peter nodded stiffly. “Which one?”

“Loki?” He watched from the floor as Wade stood up and pulled on a hoodie.

“Huh. You think he likes pancakes?”

Turns out, Loki did like pancakes. A lot. He ate enough to rival Peter, who had an awe-inspiring appetite at the worst of times. Wade seemed a little tense, hovering near Peter protectively, but eventually realized that the still-injured Asgardian didn’t pose much of a threat.

“So, how long are you planning to stay on Earth, God-man?” Wade asked nonchalantly, helping himself to one of Peter’s pancakes. Loki glanced up.

“I’m trying to make amends with my brother.” He confessed, placing his cutlery down on his now-cleared plate. “I just didn’t count on Earth’s… less welcoming inhabitants.” His hand hovered over his bandaged arm. Peter stood up and began clearing plates away.

“So, you’re not so much into genocide these days?” Wade asked, sounding disappointed. Peter slapped him on the arm as he walked past, plates stacked precariously in his arms. Loki paused.

“I no longer seek to rule, if that’s what you mean. Murder isn’t _entirely _ off the table though, if the situation arises.” He said thoughtfully.

“Hell yeah, up top!” Wade said, beaming, holding out his palm for a hi-five. After a couple moments of no response, he lowered his hand, his grin somehow not faltering.

“Nope. No, no way.” Peter said. He slammed his hand on the table, the other hand gesturing between Loki and Wade. “Absolutely no murder. New rule. You are not allowed to murder, maim or otherwise grievously injure _anyone _if you’re expecting my hospitality.”

Both men looked affronted, but Peter held firm, and they eventually cowered. Wade nodded and went in for a hug, that Peter ducked away from, clocking him around the head playfully. Loki was silent for a moment.

“I suppose that could be agreed upon. I assume the rules can be bent in self defense?” He asked. Peter paused.

“Only in dire circumstances. Come on guys, use the moral compasses I know you have. I can’t be the Jiminy Cricket for more than one reformed bad guy, and I want weekends off, at least.” That last part was more to himself than the men, but they heard it anyway, Wade laughing and Loki quirking a small, surprisingly friendly smile.

\--

Loki left a few hours later, with one of Wade’s spare emergency flip-phones, and Peter’s number, and a promise to call if he ever needed anything. Aunt May had raised Peter to be accommodating to everyone in need, homeless Norse gods apparently included. Peter was quick to collapse on the couch, flipping the TV to some nature documentary and immediately zoning out.

“We should invite him over some time, get some sweet family bonding time in.” Wade said, standing in the kitchen doorway. Peter nodded.

“That would be fun.” He agreed, more focused on watching David Attenborough narrating footage of some dolphins playing. They were pretty cute dolphins. He didn’t notice Wade moving until he was right beside him.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Petey-Pie.” Wade said nonchalantly. Peter tensed as Wade sat down next to him. “I thought maybe I did something wrong, but you’ve never been scared of kicking me in the balls when I fuck up so… I’m worried. Shit, emotions give me indigestion.”

A moment of silence. Peter shifted. Wade was looking at the TV, not at him, but he could see genuine concern in his eyes. He suddenly felt all the guilt he had been trying to suppress consume him at once.

“Fuck,” Peter started, drawing Wade’s attention and looking him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Wade. I’ve been a terrible friend lately. One day, when I’ve sorted my shit out, I’ll tell you about it. I promise.” He knew he wasn’t ready to confess yet. Loki had thrown a wrench into the works, and things suddenly seemed so much more difficult. Wade studied Peter’s face for a moment. He slowly raised his hands to Peter’s cheeks, squeezing.

“_I’m Peter and I’m sad and dramatic.” _Wade said in a high-pitched voice, hands still on Peter’s cheeks. Peter laughed, although it was difficult through fish lips, and Wade dropped his hands, laughing as well. “Want to order pizza and play GTA all night?” He asked, his voice visibly free of tension.

“Absolutely.”

\--

Suddenly, Loki Odinson had wormed his way into Peter’s (and to a lesser extent, Wade’s) heart. It began two days after the first night, when Peter came home after his internship to find a dejected-looking Loki sipping a beer on the couch. He was sporting a black eye and his hair strongly resembled a rats’ nest.

“Hi Peter! Loki’s here because his brother was being a bag of dicks and he came over to rant about it!” Deadpool called from the other room. He then started whistling loudly, probably to mask the ominous noise of their kitchen knife sharpener being used to sharpen a katana. Peter sat down on the couch.

“We have several more bedrooms than necessary, if you need a place to crash.” He said. Loki smiled, a little sardonically.

“I cannot be indebted to you. Especially if I am so often bound to break your rules about any less-than-moral behavior.” He gestured to his bruised face. “I ran afoul of Thor again, and it was mostly my fault, this time. It appears that I will never be more than the God of Mischief.”

Peter considered this for a moment.

“As long as you don’t needlessly kill any innocents and you don’t get as much blood on my carpet as Deadpool does on a daily basis, we’re probably good.” He replied. “Also, no mind-voodoo on me OR Wade, however annoying he gets.”

“That is more than agreeable.” Loki relented, relaxing further into the couch. “I’m bored.”

“And I’m hungry.” Peter groaned. He paused. “Hey Wade!” He yelled. The whistling stopped.

“Yeah?” Wade called back.

“Do you want a hotdog? I’m gonna show Loki the best food places around here!”

“Obvs! You know my order! Don’t take too long!”

Peter offered Loki a hand, and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, dude. I’m gonna take you on the most important tour of NYC you’ll ever take.”

\--

Approximately 3 weeks later…

Peter entered the workshop and immediately collapsed onto the bench, ignoring the look Tony was giving him in favour of banging his head on his desk.

“Morning, problem child.” Tony said, sounding annoyingly amused, “You got my coffee?”

Peter grunted in lieu of words and shoved a cup of coffee in Tony’s direction. He heard the man snort and turned his head just enough, so Tony could see his scowl.

“Hey Tony, Is… What’s wrong with Peter?” Bruce entered the room, immediately freezing in the doorway. Peter grunted again. Tony laughed.

“He’s hungover,” He said, chugging his coffee and slamming the empty paper cup onto the desk. “Trust me, I’ve been there enough times in my life to know. Good weekend, Pete?”

Peter shrugged. “My roommate challenged me to a drinking contest.” He said. Wade had invited Loki over for the evening again, and, in order to get to know the enigmatic man better, they’d proceeded to order an obscene amount of food and get shitfaced. In actuality, Loki had been the one to suggest a drinking contest as a tie-breaker after a game of Monopoly had gotten a little too heated - Wade had lost two fingers to a lethal-looking dagger. Wade had jumped at the chance, and Peter was immediately drunk under the table by a combination of Alien biology and Superpowers. Hence, the worst hangover he’d ever had in his life. He was pretty sure that Loki had officially moved into the apartment at some point last night, but his memory was pretty hazy.

Tony ruffled his hair, and Peter half-heartedly batted his hand away. Bruce grinned, snatching up his coffee from beside Peter. “Take pity on the kid, Tony.” He said, his smile becoming a little more sympathetic. Tony groaned.

“Okay kid. Just this once, I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He walked away, and Peter could hear the noises of someone rummaging through a cupboard. Tony returned with a small yellow pill and a glass of water. Too groggy to fight, Peter took the pill and immediately went back to hiding his head in his crossed arms. “Give it a minute, that’ll completely get rid of your hangover. Helen Cho synthesized those specifically for me, years ago, but Pepper used to hide them because she said I needed to ‘face the consequences of my decisions’, whatever that means. So be grateful I’m not doing the same to you. Besides, I need an intern that can actually function.”

Peter lifted his head from the desk, already beginning to feel better. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“It’s still just Tony, kid.” He sighed, tossing Peter a paper-clipped file. “First order of business, I need you to look over these plans. Technically they’re SHIELD approved personnel only, but seeing as they approved me and I approved you, it should be good.”

Far too curious to even consider that it was probably illegal, Pete flipped open the file. He instantly recognized schematics for what was definitely a weapon, and although he couldn’t tell what, he recognized mass destruction when he saw it. After a few seconds, Peter closed the file and slid it cross the desk.

He looked up to see both Tony and Bruce studying his face and shrugged. “Look, I’m still a bit hungover or whatever, but that’s a weapon and I don’t mess with weapons. Y’know. Just as a general rule.”

Tony paused, before taking up the file again. He gave Peter an appraising look, before glancing at Bruce, who sported a surprisingly proud expression. “Impressive. I was actually…” Here, Tony paused to rifle through a folder he had pulled off a nearby shelf, “considering re-starting an old project, which might be more your speed. Here.” He tossed Peter a single sheet of paper.

Peter skimmed it over and yeah, this was definitely something he could get into. He’d always been more into the bio-sciences, although he held a strong love of engineering, and he was honestly fascinated by this concept. “Why did you give up in this in the first place, Tony?”

“To be honest with you, kid, I fucking hate spiders.”

\--- 

When Peter got home that evening, it was with a head crammed with ideas and schematics. He had asked for some spiders to be imported – much to Tony’s mild discomfort – and already had big plans. He had always been ambitious, but it was certainly a new experience to have the funds to make his plans happen. Unfortunately, that had meant he’d been delayed at work for a good few hours. By the time he got home, it was well into the night.

Loki and Wade were already at home, he could hear their frantic voices in the kitchen. When he slammed the door, however, both voices immediately fell silent.

Peter was instantly reminded of his years babysitting as a teenager – a silent toddler usually meant they were doing something they were not supposed to be doing. Slipping off his trainers, Peter made his way through the apartment slowly.

That was when he heard the noise. A small, but definite meow.

Sure enough, Peter entered the kitchen to find two grown men curled over a tiny, black kitten, all three of them looking back up at Peter with equally panicked faces. Loki found his voice first, “I can explain.”

“You – What – Where did you find a cat?” Peter stuttered out, dropping his bag on the table and rushing over to see the small animal. The poor thing looked thoroughly overwhelmed, slightly emaciated, and it honestly smelt terrible.

“Ah, yes, that was Wade’s doing. Mostly. He retrieved her, after I heard her clawing to get out of a trashcan. He was one one who insisted we take her home.” Loki explained, sounding a little sheepish. Wade was beginning to look proud.

Peter scooped the cat into his arms, examining her gently. He sighed. “I suppose I can’t be mad about that. I just don’t know if I have the resources to look after a cat, alongside everything else,” He frowned. Wade grimaced, watching with keen eyes how the kitten had buried herself in the crook of Peter’s elbow.

“I could look after her.” Loki suggested, “Having an animal familiar was traditional amongst magic users on Asgard, and I certainly will be able to care for her. Provided you have no issues with a cat in your apartment?”

“Our apartment,” Peter corrected automatically, “And no, absolutely not. I’ve always loved animals.” He carefully transferred the cat into Loki’s arms.

“Her name shall be Sigyn,” Loki said, stroking the kitten fondly. “I shall depart to my room, to make her a place to sleep, and perhaps give her a bath.”

After watching Loki leave, Peter turned to Wade, and half collapsed into his arms. “It’s been a long day.” He murmured into the man’s chest, feeling strong arms reach up to play with his hair. “But a good one.”

“I had an interesting day as well, baby boy. Your friendly neighborhood Deadpool got to sit on the same plane as Captain America! He even told me to shut up!” Wade said, but his voice was hushed. Peter was beginning to fall asleep in his arms. “Eh, screw this.”

Before Peter could even react, Wade had scooped him up bridal-style, and began carrying him to the bathroom, where he was unceremoniously pushed back onto his feet. Peter scowled at Wade, who crammed a toothbrush into his mouth – presumably to avoid having to say anything. Still frowning, Peter picked up his own toothbrush. He cracked a smile, though, at Wade, making stupid faces at him in the mirror.

\--

Loki was certainly settling in. He had chosen one of the spare bedrooms as his own, and already outfitted it with a small bed for Sigyn, a small collection of ancient-looking books and an impressive number of potted plants. Peter had asked about them, once, and Loki had launched into a long-winded explanation that had been both baffling and enlightening – Loki really knew his stuff.

Wade and Loki got along far too well – and both had a penchant for destruction that quickly became a problem (at least, a problem for Peter). Luckily, Wade had money to spare and a guilty enough conscience (at least in the presence of Peter) to pay for any repairs that could not be fixed with magic.

Still, things were good. Peter and Wade had learnt to trust Loki, and there were far less awkward silences or thinly-veiled threats tossed around – with the exception of board game night, during which even Peter would give up his morals.

But things rarely stayed so good for so long.

The nature of the Avengers, and the mercenary-turned-SHIELD agent that Peter had given his heart to, meant that they were often running into danger. Missions varied – and generally Tony Stark and Bruce Banner were not needed (it was oftentimes the equivalent of killing a fly with a bazooka) and given Wade’s… uk-killable-ness, Peter could generally rely on him coming home safe. Still, he worried, as anyone would.

Peter had to watch all the Avengers leave this time – none of them could be spared, and as Tony Stark’s personal intern Peter was responsible for making sure Tony was prepared for a mission – or rather, that Iron Man was.

This meant he had to watch as the heavily-armed team crammed onto the roof of the building, preparing to file onto the Quinjet, all looking grim. It was rare that the Avengers assembled nowadays, and the crisis, from the limited information that Tony had been able to share, was a serious one.

It also meant he had to watch Wade leave, again. Through the mask, Peter could feel Wade’s eyes on him, and the tense way he held his body. Wade didn’t like leaving Peter without him, as a general rule, and this was an unexpected departure.

The Avengers, and a few assorted SHIELD agents (which technically included Wade) were stood on the roof, listening solemnly to a final briefing from Director Hill. In his hands, Peter clutched the breastplate of the Iron Man suit, several tools between his teeth as he fumbled to make the last necessary repairs. He couldn’t be the one responsible for a malfunction, he had to make sure Mr. Stark would be safe.

Before he could finish tightening the last screw, Tony plucked the armour from his hands.

“Thanks, kid. There’s one last thing I need you to do.” He said, examining the wiring on the breastplate approvingly. Peter nodded. “Go talk to Colonel Rhodes. He needs some help with some of the more complex interfacing of the War machine suit. And don’t worry so much, kid, we always come out okay in the end.” With a firm pat on the shoulder, Tony walked off. Watching Tony leave, Peter noticed Wade was still staring at him. He gave a small thumbs-up as he jogged over to the Colonel.

“Mr. Rhodes, sir? I’m Tony’s intern, he said you needed some help…” Peter began. War Machine pulled off his faceplate, looking somewhat relieved, and handed it to Peter.

“It’s Rhodey to you, kid. Tony speaks highly of you.” The man said, studying Peter’s face intently. He placed the faceplate in Peter’s hand. “Tony said he gave you a data chip… thingy?”

“Yeah, let me just…” Peter dug his hands into his pockets (well, _Wade’s _pockets. Peter had stolen the jacket off him a few days ago) and pulled out the small circular device. Rhodey smiled.

“Awesome. I’m telling you this because Tony trusts you, okay? But I need you to help us. We think… well, we’re not certain but…” He paused. “I need you to put that data thingy into my suit. Tony said you’d figure it out. The minute we take off, I need you to activate it, and monitor _everything._”

“What, but—”

“I promise I’ll explain fully. I can’t now.” Rhodey said. Peter squared his shoulders and gave a firm nod.

The data chip wasn’t too difficult to figure out. He implanted it quickly, but carefully adjusting so it would not be noticeable to any outside influences, even those well-versed in technology. He gave the faceplate back to Rhodey, who immediately turned and jogged towards Black Widow, who was lounging against the side of the jet, face perfectly blank.

Peter turned to walk off the roof, duties fulfilled, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. He spun quickly, and relaxed when he saw the familiar red mask.

“Please be careful.” Peter said, his voice suddenly weaker. Wade cocked his head.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” He said. “When I get back from Alaska we are going to have a _talk _about how incredibly clumsy you are, Pete.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but lowered it when he remembered falling down the fire escape the day before, chasing Sigyn, who was incredibly fast even for a cat.

He and Wade stood a little too far apart – both far too aware of the others on the roof. They stood for a moment in awkward silence, and as Peter finally opened his mouth to say something, there was a callous shout.

“Deadpool, stop harassing the poor kid and get on the jet!”

Wade inclined his head at Peter, before taking off sprinting, making it onto the Quinjet just in time. Peter walked away without watching them leave.


End file.
